It’s On. December 1, 2011

Hold your breath.  It’s about to get regular up in here. 

 

See, I’ve missed blogging.  I’ve missed sharing my crazy life with you.  (I’ve missed hearing how funny my life is.)  There are so many things I failed to write (type) down, and now they are lost in that foggy place memories go when you’re the mother of five.  (FIVE!)  That makes me sad, and blogging makes me happy.  So it’s a win-win.  It’s well past time to start it up again.

 

Earlier this week, I was feeding Sam in the high chair, and Alex was across the room, “working” on the computer.  Every so often, he’d guffaw, or giggle, or snort.  I had my back to him, and when I turned around to see what was so funny, I found him scrolling through my past blog posts.  Apparently, he still finds me hilarious, although I’m sure that will change in four months, when he turns 13.  He called Kendra over, and they read story after story, laughing together and reminiscing about what I’d written.

 

It made me happy (and proud, if I’m being completely honest) both in the moment, and for the past however-many years of blogging I’d done.  It also made me a little sad, for the years I let it slide.  Since I can’t go back, I can certainly move forward.  With a little bit of catching up first.  (Did you know I had a baby?  He is almost 6 months old now.  I’ll have to introduce you to him in a future post.  He’s a shameless flirt, and my heart melts every time I look at him.)

 

So, see you tomorrow?

The Co-STAN-za fallout March 4, 2010

     I posted the picture of Jason Alexander on my Facebook page, to show how similar it was to Anthony’s pose from yesterday.  There was some unintended fallout that made for one of  the funniest threads I’ve ever been a part of, and I HAD to record it.  You know for blackmail posterity…

 

First, here is my husband:

 

While I admit he does  bear more than a slight resemblance to George Costanza, I still didn’t expect THIS:

 

Change March 2, 2010

(In my defense, change rhymes with strange, and is therefore a perfectly acceptable topic to write about.  And if that isn’t good enough for you, then let me take an even bigger stretch by saying that sometimes, change is strange.) (*groan*)

(Do you hear that sound?  It’s the click of a dozen computer mouses- mice?-, deleting me from feed readers.  With good reason, I suppose.)

 

     So, we have made some changes in the Sutton household as of January 1.  (I like the word “change” instead of the word “resolution” for several reasons, the best one being that there is less pressure to succeed, and less emphasis on “fail”.  I am, after all, a HUGE slacker.)  Some of the changes have been good, some of them have been excellent, a few resulted in “What were we thinking?”, and some have been abandoned due to lack of effort and/or excitement.  Before I hit you with a list of some of those changes (as I’m sure you’re on the edge of your seat with barely-contained excitement), let me preface the following paragraphs by saying that I HATE change.  Okay, maybe I don’t *hate* change, but I am perfectly comfortable with the status quo.  Almost always.  Change takes effort, it takes faith, and there is no guarantee that change will wield results.  (Okay, so that isn’t true, either.  Change ALWAYS wields results.  They just might not be the results I want.)  In short, change is uncomfortable, and let’s face it:  I am all about the comfort.  (Hence, the wardrobe.  The hair.  The makeup, or lack thereof.  The house.  Like I said before…  SLACKER.)

 

     Here we go.

Hello, Strange(rs)* March 1, 2010

     It’s been a long, long time.

 

     Too long.

 

     There have been dozens of things I’ve missed writing about because I kept putting them off, or because I told myself I was too busy, or because I was  too busy.  Days turned into weeks, which turned into months, and suddenly I’m reliving my old journal entries all over again.

 

     Back when I was a better, more committed blogger, I did a few complete months of NaBloPoMo.  (I did several, less complete months as well, but I try to pretend they didn’t happen.)  At the end of every month, I still get the e-mail in my inbox encouraging me to participate in the next month’s challenge, and when I opened my March e-mail, I thought two things:

 

(Actually, I thought several things, simultaneously.  I won’t bore you with what doesn’t pertain because I like you, and also because I try to keep the crazy under wraps.  You’re welcome.)

 

1.  I can do this!  What better way to force myself to start blogging again, than to make a month-long commitment?

 

 

and

 

2.  “Strange” is a fun theme!  I can SO *do* strange.

 

 

     So there you have it.  I am committed to post every day this month, in the hopes that it will give me the big kick in the pants that I need to pursue a writing career (surprise!), entertain my fan(s), and keep a sporadic-yet-amusing account of my life.

 

     I hope you’ll join me.  I hope you’ll enjoy it.

 

 

 

*See what I did there?  I have this theme IN THE BAG.  

Happy Happy Joy Joy! June 15, 2009

     I got a phone call early this afternoon.

 

     It was Kristi, and I could hear her grin through the phone.

 

     “Guess what?!?!”  she (practically) shrieked.  “They found my backpack!  They have my backpack!  It’s at the police station and I can go get it!”

 

     I instantly broke into my version of the happy dance, which, if you saw it would remind you more of the potty dance, but whatever.  There was dancing.  There was celebrating.  There were even tears.

 

     Someone found it next to the canal that runs behind the elementary school that is across the street from our neighborhood.  Everything inside was wet (most things were soaked, thanks to the solid week of rain we’ve gotten), but most of it is salvageable. They had gone through everything and dumped it into one huge (extremely soggy) pile, but aside from a few credit cards, three DVDs, some cash and a little change (okay, about 2 pounds of change) and her laptop, it was all there… plus some snails.  Being the heroic sister that I am, I picked them off and threw them into the street.  (Okay, one.  I picked one off.)  I know that there weren’t snails in her bag when it was stolen, so wasn’t it nice of Mother Nature to leave her a little something to make up for what was taken?

 

     Even the zip drive was there, completely dry and unaffected.

 

     A lot of people prayed for her during the last week, and just the other day I told her that if you went by  my kids’ prayers alone, her backpack should sprout wings and fly through her bedroom window. 

 

     Of course, this way was good, too.  It was a happy, happy day.

When You Burn a Girl a CD (Or, Why I Have a Slight Crush on Jason Mraz) June 11, 2009

When you burn a girl a CD, she will listen to it every single moment she is awake.

After she has listened to it approximately 25 times, she will ask you to print off the lyrics for each song.

After you print off the lyrics, she will sing along.

As she sings along, you begin to pick up the lyrics as well.

After you can sing every song on the CD, some phrases begin to stick out.

As you ponder those phrases, you begin to apply them to certain life experiences.

Those life experiences remind you of other songs, which makes you go to i-Tunes and download them.

After you’ve downloaded those other songs, your daughter hears them and asks you to burn her a new CD.

And, when you burn a girl a CD, she will listen to it every single moment she is awake.

 

 

 

Give me one more day. June 9, 2009

     So, that funny post you were waiting for is not going to happen tonight.

 

     I have four fun guests from Ohio in my house overnight, and while three of them are asleep, the best one of all and I are going to chatter well into the night.

 

     Catch you tomorrow! 

“Steal from Wal-Mart. Not from people.” June 8, 2009

(Lest you flog me verbally for suggesting such a thing, I want to defend my title choice by saying it was a comment response to my sister’s Facebook status, and it was one of the only things that made me giggle today.  I don’t actually think people should steal from ANYBODY, or anything.  Fair enough?

Carry on.)

 

     I had hoped to write something funny and/or charming for today’s post, but the morning got off to a rough start, and instead of cute, you get scary, gritty and sad.

 

     (You  may be asking yourself why you continue to read my blog, and I assure you that very soon, I will be back to my usual witty and hilarious self.  Perhaps even by tomorrow.)

 

     This morning started off the way Mondays usually do– my alarm went off at 4:30 AM, I staggered to the front door to unlock it, rubbed my eyes, got a drink and waited for Kristi to walk in with Abbie.  Right on cue, at 4:35 the door opened, Kristi carried Abbie inside, took off her sweater, kissed her, put her in the playpen and said goodbye, then walked out the door.  Abbie fussed for a minute, and I told her it would be okay, that Mommy was going to work and would be back soon, and I reached behind me to dim the lamp.

 

     All of this took three minutes.  Five, tops, but that’s stretching it.

 

     Suddenly, the front door flew open, swinging so hard it slammed into the door stop.  Kristi yelled, “Call 911!  I’ve just been robbed!”

 

Can every day be Sunday? June 7, 2009

     You know what I love?  Cloudy, overcast days.

 

     You know what else I love?  Long naps after church.

 

     You know what makes a rainy, overcast day of church and lengthy naps even better?  Watching a family-friendly movie* together on a new couch in a dark basement.

 

     Aaaaah, Sunday.

 

 

*Igor.  Funny for children AND parents.

 

 

Turn back the clock June 4, 2009

     Late last night, I was stunned to learn that a high school friend of mine shot himself.

 

     My mind has been doing a lot of wandering today because of the news.  I’ve reminisced about high school, past relationships, who I was then, and who I am now.  I’ve thought a lot about how the changes in my life have shaped me, and then I think about Brad’s family, and the sudden changes that have been thrust upon them.

 

     My heart hurts for them.  And for Brad. 

 

     I’m also emotional about the end of the school year.  Having to leave Kendra’s teacher after two years is particularly difficult.  I am astounded to think that Alex will be in fifth grade next year.  I mean, that’s the grade I taught.  He can’t possibly be as big as those kids, can he?  I miss the toddler stage.  I love who they are becoming, but I miss who they were.

 

     And then I’m reminded of how Brad will never see his boys get to fifth grade, and how his beautiful new baby girl won’t ever really know her daddy, and I get a lump in my throat.  I wish things would have turned out differently for him.  For his family. 

 

     Change is never easy.  This change is heartbreaking.